


Willing to Bet

by RubyLipsStarryEyes



Series: Remus and Hermione’s love story [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Nightmares, No past Remus/Tonks, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Remus Lupin's Birthday, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, True Love, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, distraction sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23102326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyLipsStarryEyes/pseuds/RubyLipsStarryEyes
Summary: Happy Birthday Remus!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Series: Remus and Hermione’s love story [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660480
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

The late afternoon sunlight made the ring on her finger sparkle brilliantly, sending rainbows and shards of light across the living room wall. Hermione shifted her hand, letting the rare March sunlight fill the room, reflecting and refracting across the space. 

She let the kaleidoscopic colors entertain her for a while longer while she waited. It wouldn’t be much longer before her fiancé would emerge from his office, stretch and say, “hello, love. Would you like some tea?” He’d smile as he kissed her on his way to the kitchen, ask her how her day was, and listen patiently as she complained about the bureaucracy of the Ministry. Four minutes later, he would bring her a cup of earl grey tea, and he would sit down and tell her about his conversations with his editor and his lunch with Minerva. They would talk for a while, and inevitably the conversation would turn to the wedding. 

The wedding. Their wedding. After three months, she thought that she should be used to the idea by now, but the thought still terrified her. 

She’d dreamt of her wedding like any other little girl, though her teenage years had been preoccupied with thoughts of overthrowing a madman rather than dresses and flowers. The nearly two years since then hadn’t been much better, though she knew she would have to face it before too long. Molly was elbows deep in Harry and Ginny’s, but with their wedding in June, Hermione knew she only had three short months until Molly got her claws into planning theirs as well. 

She sighed, turning her attention back to the glittering ring. The marquise-cut diamond had been Hope’s, and Hermione wondered if, had she been alive, that she would have liked her mother-in-law. Hermione had been told she was a lovely woman, and Hermione was inclined to believe it, based on who her son had grown up to be, despite his hardships. 

Hermione’s own mother, Helen, wouldn’t be there for the wedding either. Since the end of the war, they’d had little contact, and they hadn’t been particularly pleased when Hermione had announced their relationship. It had been the breaking point, though Hermione would make the same choice a hundred times over, given the chance. 

“Knut for your thoughts?” 

Hermione jumped, gasping. “Remus!” 

“Sorry love, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you had that _look._ ”

Hermione ducked her head, but he drew closer, lifting her chin with his index finger before cupping her jaw softly. She was slow to lift her eyes, but when she did, the warmth in his amber eyes made her wonder how she ever managed to look away.

“I love you.” It slipped out, the feeling overwhelming whatever fear and uncertainty had crept up in her mind. She reached up and traced one of the scars that ran the length of his cheekbone. 

“I love you too.” 

His kiss was soft, and she welcomed the touch, dropping her hand from his face to fist in his robes. She felt his lips turn up against hers, and she pulled back slightly, searching his face. 

“What?” 

He slid his hands over hers, where they gripped his robes tightly. “I hope you never stop doing this.” His hands tightened, even as hers loosened. “I mean it.” She tightened her grip, using it to pull him close again. 

This kiss was deeper, more insistent and needy. 

“If you don’t stop that, we’re going to be late for dinner,” Remus murmured against her lips. 

“I’d be willing to bet we can make it,” she teased, nipping at his lip, spinning and ducking out of his grasp. He lunged for her, catching her around her waist. He dragged her giggling back to him, burying his nose in her curls. A moan escaped her lips as his hands slid over her stomach and up over her breasts.

“If we’re late, what do I get?” His voice was already rough with desire, and a whimper escaped Hermione’s lips. He was already picking down the buttons of her blouse, revealing the red lace of her bra. She reached behind herself, pulling his hips closer and grinding her arse against the quickly hardening bulge in his trousers. 

The last button on her blouse fell open, and he took the chance to splay his fingers out across her bare skin, inhaling deeply. His lips were on her neck again, and she let her head loll to the side, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. Remus took full advantage, kissing and nipping at the curve of her neck, even while his hands wandered up, cupping her breasts through the thin lace. 

Another moan tore from her throat as he found her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his forefingers and thumbs. 

“Remus, please,” came the prayer, and he chuckled, turning her roughly and pressing into her until the backs of her knees hit the sofa. He lowered her down to the cushions, teasing the hardened buds of her nipples through the lace. He knelt on the floor before her, pressing her skirt up towards her hips with one hand, and caressing up her inner thigh with the other. 

“Shouldn’t… I be… Doing that?” she panted, unable to catch her breath through the onslaught of sensation. 

“And deny me?” His amber eyes burned as he sank closer, his pupils blown wide and his tongue flicking out to lick his lips hungrily.Hermione quickly succumbed to his open mouthed kisses beginning just above her knee and working up towards the scrap of lace that covered her mound. A soft stroke to push aside the scarlet lace had her gasping and reeling, her fingertips digging into the sofa cushion. 

His warm breath preceded his tongue by only a second, and then it was on her clit, flicking and caressing. Her answering shriek spurred him on, slipping a finger between her folds and curling it forward. It was only his shoulders that kept her thighs from clamping together, and his rumbling chuckle pushed her over the edge in record time.

Before Hermione could come down from her ecstasy, his shoulders were replaced with his hips, and his lips were on hers. The taste of herself on his tongue was a heady drug, and she deepened the kiss, pulling him down to feel his body pressed tight against hers. 

“Remus, please!” The words that were just minutes before a prayer were now a whine, and he answered her plea with a sharp snap of his hips, burying himself deep within her. The groan that followed was music to her ears. 

“Gods Hermione!” His breath was ragged against her neck, and she threaded one of her hands through his hair, the other grasping the back of his robes. Hooking her legs behind his back, he drove himself deeper, wrenching a cry from her. His hips started to move against hers, sliding in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. 

Their breathing quickened, her hands grasping at the flexing muscles in his back. Without warning, Hermione’s body stiffened, her second orgasm overwhelming her. Remus drove into her, the aftershocks driving him mad with pleasure. 

“Come for me,” she whispered, and her order was immediately obeyed. He crested his peak with a groan. “You’re so perfect,” she crooned, kissing the spot on his shoulder that held the Bite. 

He stood on shaking legs, turning to sit next to Hermione’s prone form. She sat up to kiss him, the blood rush rendering her dizzy and lightheaded. 

“We’re going to be late,” she whispered, leaning over and collapsing into his hold. 

“They can wait,” he sighed, his heart still pounding furiously in his chest. The blood rushing in his ears quieted as he held her, and after a few minutes he was able to focus enough to clean them and set them to rights, though he was loathe to see the red lace be covered by her conservative blouse once again. 

“I suppose it would be too much to ask to skip dinner?” He kissed the ring that still sparkled in the dying evening light. 

“You know they’d be out for blood if we didn’t allow them this,” she told him, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Fine, but you never told me what I’d get if we were late,” he told her as they stood, straightening their robes. 

“Oh I thought one of those would be enough,” she teased, looking approvingly at the still-softening bulge in his trousers. “But I’d be willing to bet I could get another from you after dinner,” she said with a cheeky wink. 

He was still shaking his head when they apparated to the Weasley’s garden, where they were waiting with amused expressions amidst the cheers at their appearance. 

“Happy Birthday Remus,” the assembly bellowed as one, and Hermione giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Happy Birthday, my love.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wakes from a nightmare

Hermione woke with a gasp. Pushing herself up off the mattress, she reached out blindly, searching for Remus’ reassuring presence.

The bed was empty.

Her heart sped up as she sat straight up. Tendrils of hair stuck to her face and neck, suffocating and strangling her. She tore at them with a whimper, her lingering panic overriding her logic. The thin, oversized t-shirt she wore clung to her damp skin, and the sheets were tangled around her legs, trapping her.

Her whimper turned into a cry as she fought the fabric that held her in place, yanking and flailing in an a futile attempt to free herself.

“Shhh. Hermione shhh.” The mattress dipped somewhere beside her, and the fresh air of a cooling charm washed over her. The sheets were pulled free in sure, susinct movements, leaving her exposed and panting. 

A heavy, comforting hand rubbed her opposite thigh, his low voice telling her to breathe. In the darkness she couldn’t see him, but she could smell the chocolate and bergamot on him and feel his steady heartbeat where she grasped his wrist.

After her breathing calmed, he shifted slightly, angling himself behind her and pulling her back into his chest. One arm settled protectively across her chest while the other pushed her damp curls out of her face. Hermione relaxed into his hold, the familiar sensations of his body against hers pushing the panic further and further away.

The nightmare was one that was becoming increasingly common; Kingsley’s patronus appearing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but Remus was ripped from her grasp. Then they appeared at the castle, and she watched in horror as Remus caught the Killing Curse meant for her, even as she stepped into his hold. 

His whispers tapered off, the only sounds in the room their breathing and the metronome of the ticking clock, keeping time with his thumbs swiping over her thigh and breast. She became acutely aware of her nipple tightening under his light touch, and an accompanying ache between her thighs. Arching into his touch, her next whimper wasn’t one of fear, but of need.

His lips found her neck, small, sweet kisses tickling her and drawing her nipples into tight buds, pressing against the threadbare cotton.She pressed back against him, satisfaction at the firm length pressing into her back quickly dissolved into impatience.

She grabbed at his legs, her fingertips digging into the firm muscle of his thighs on either side of her. “Remus, you tease.” His answering hum, with his lips pressed to her throat made her squirm against his hold, giggling at the tickling vibrations against her skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered into her hair.

“You’re distracting me from my— oh!”A pinch to her nipple caught her off guard, the jolt making her jerk against his hold. He took the opportunity to slide his hand up her inner thigh, rubbing against her cotton covered clit. She moaned, and his hand retreated down her thigh again.

“Please,” she whined, grabbing his wrist and attempting to pull his hand back. He resisted easily, and she huffed impatiently. “That’s not fair!” She let go of his wrist, fully intending on taking care of it herself if he was going to tease her, but he captured her wrist in an iron grip, pulling it against her abdomen. 

Abandoning her now-aching nipple, he reached between her legs, fingering the edge of her knickers.

“You don’t get to—“

One thick finger plunged into her, any protests dying in her throat. He curled it forward, pressing against the spot that took her breath away. Arching into his touch, she ground her hips down. The heel of his hand provided the friction her clit needed, and she moaned when he began to pump in and out of her.

Adding a second finger only spurred her on, and she rode his hand until she was panting. She was chasing her orgasm, and hit a plateau until Remus’s free hand snaked you under her T-shirt and began kneading at her breast again. A pinch to her nipple and she was shattering in his hands.

“There it is,” he whispered, his voiced drowned out by the blood rushing in bear ears. Her pussy clenched repeatedly around his fingers as he languidly stroked in and out of her.

Lightheaded, dizzy, and satisfied, she slumped against his chest. The clock down the hall chimed three in the morning as he slid his hand free, gently rearranging her displaced knickers. She hadn’t even realized he hadn’t bothered to take them off her, but through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss she was glad he hadn’t wasted the time. Exhaustion hit harder than her orgasm had, but she struggled her way upright again, turning to reach for the hard length that pressed against her back.

He was quicker than she was though, and caught her wrist, bringing it up to his lips. His tongue glanced across the skin over her pulse, and she shuddered.

“Lay down,” he commanded her softly, and she nodded, stretching out in the darkness. The mattress dipped as Remus lay beside her, and she rolled until her face was buried in his chest. Again she reached for his cock, but her clumsy groping missed by a mile, and he captured her roaming hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

“Later.”

“But—“

He huffed a laugh, but she was too tired to even attempt to glare at him. She was too exhausted, too boneless, and too comfortable to move again. “Go back to sleep, love. We can take care of it tomorrow.”

She moaned her disagreement, but couldn’t find the willpower to do anything about it. When he began to stroke her hair, her body released every bit of tension it still held, and she was floating through a cloud that smelled of earl grey and chocolate biscuits. 


	3. Chapter 3

The clock was chiming eight when consciousness crept back to her, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the early May sun filtering through the drapes. Hermione could hear Remus’s deep, even breaths beside her, and she briefly considered attempting to go back to sleep until she remembered his words from the night before. 

Cracking her eyes, she found him splayed out on his stomach, his face turned away from her— probably unconsciously trying to escape the runaway curls that tickled his nose. The sheet had bunched around his hips, leaving his bare back and legs exposed. 

She reached up, tracing the thick scars over his left shoulder. The Bite. He swore hers was the only touch he could feel there, and she often wondered why. Now though, she just traced the silvery scars that littered his skin, working her way down and across his entire back, mulling over the dream she’d had the night before. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d had it, nor would it be the last. She woke each time drenched in a cold sweat, reaching for him. She hadn’t told him of the dreams, and he hadn’t asked, rightfully assuming she’d tell him eventually. She didn’t know when, but she would. Some day. 

He was awake now, and when she traced a particularly jagged one around his left hip, he growled softly. 

“What are you doing,” he mumbled into the pillow, and she smiled faintly. His Welsh accent was more pronounced when he was half asleep, his vowels longer and some consonants softer while others sounded more guttural. Lilting and almost melodic, she’d never grow tired of his voice like this, but it wasn’t often lately that she woke up before him. 

He’d taken to early morning runs, leaving their cottage as the sun was rising and taking the path that led along the cliffs’ edge, overlooking the sea. Hermione wasn’t sure what drew him, the bite of the chilled Welsh wind enough to keep her inside. 

This morning though, it appeared that he’d opted to sleep in, and she stifled a giggle as her hand continued past the end of the scar. 

“I bet you can guess,” she teased, and her grin grew wider when her fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers and brushed against the weeping tip of his erection. He growled again, but he’d canted his hips toward her for easier access. Plunging her hand wrist deep into his boxers, she wrapped her hand firmly around him, stroking slowly. 

He finally rolled to face her completely, all sleep driven away as she twisted her hand over the head just as he liked. He shuffled, pushing his shorts halfway down his thighs and then rolled closer, attacking her neck with bruising kisses. She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest. He slid his hand from the curve of her waist down her thigh, hooking his hand behind her knee and pulling it up over his hip. With a growl, he rolled to his back, bringing her with him so she straddled him completely. 

She gasped when he palmed her breasts, kneading them and pinching her nipples roughly until they stood taut against the cotton of the stolen t-shirt she wore. She released his cock long enough to strip the offending garment, leaving her bare to him. His eyes gleamed gold in the morning light, and Hermione shivered at the way he took her in slowly and completely; like a predator watching it’s next meal. 

She worked her fist up and down his cock, the tip glistening with his arousal. She wanted him so badly it hurt; the ache between her thighs deepened as she rolled her hips without gaining any pressure or friction to the bundle of nerves. Patience was not her strong suit, and she knew it amused Remus to no end. In their current situation, though, she didn’t think he minded too much that she couldn’t bear to tease him or be teased for too long. Pushing her panties aside, she lined up his cock with her entrance and sunk slowly down. Once she was fully seated and panting, he canted his hips, pressing himself deeper inside her. 

She dug her nails into his chest, his skin blanching white around her fingertips, but she didn’t see it, head thrown back in ecstasy. She’d never been with a man that filled her like Remus, and she basked in his generous attention. 

His hands gripped her waist, and she rolled her hips again. She never felt sexier than she did riding him as he traced her generous curves with a firm touch. His fingers tangled in the ends of her hair, and the thought of it tickling his powerful thighs made her grin. She leaned back a bit further so the head of his cock brushed against the spot inside her that made her see stars. 

“Just like that,” he urged, and she sped up. He slid a hand down her stomach to finger her clit, and she moaned loudly in response. She never could be quiet, another aspect of their relationship that Remus seemed to enjoy exploiting to no end. 

Not unexpectedly, she didn’t last much longer, coming with a cry as he drove into her from beneath her. A couple more thrusts, and his back arched, flooding her with his release. She lowered herself to lay against his chest, still buried to the hilt within her. Laying her head against the curve of his neck and shoulder, she sighed. His hands brushed along her spine, and she relaxed fully, her limbs turning to jelly. 

  
The first time he’d pulled her down to lay like this after sex, she’d been so afraid she was too heavy and would hurt him, but he’d insistently held her and played with her hair until she’d fallen asleep. Now it was her favorite way to recover, and Remus regularly pulled her onto him if they’d finished with her on top or not. There just wasn’t anything quite like it, and Hermione never tired of hearing his thundering heartbeat slow as they lay in the blissful afterglow. 

The clock was chiming nine before either of them spoke. It was Remus to break the silence, drawing Hermione from the twilight of near-sleep. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

It took a moment for her to work through what he was asking, and she mulled over it for a long minute before answering. “No. It’s nothing.” She didn’t think he’d believe her, but he never pressed unless it was important. 

He kissed her forehead, and she closed her eyes, basking in the gentle affection that he never withheld. “Are you ready to get up? Ginny and Daphne will be here soon.” 

Hermione groaned. “That’s today.” 

Remus chuckled, the low rumble reverberating through her skin and making her even more reluctant to get up. “That is today, love. It will be fine. You’ll find a dress and that will be one less thing to worry about.” 

She tried to sit up, but her hips protested, and she ended up rolling off of him in a graceless heap instead. He sat up easily, and pulled her upright along with him. It was amazing the differences in him now that he had a steady supply of Wolfsbane potion and a decent healer. She suspected having a steady job, home, and support had something to do with it as well, but whatever the reason, she was grateful. 

He dragged her into the shower, washing her body carefully and drawing smiles from her with light teasing about the state of her hair. They made breakfast together, and they were lingering over their second cup of tea when there was a sharp knock on the door. 

Ginny and Daphne entered a moment later, and Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“One of these days you’re going to walk in on something you’d rather not see,” Hermione grumbled, and Ginny just laughed. 

“This one can hear us coming from a mile off. I’m thinking I like our chances.” She winked at Remus and snagged a biscuit from the plate on the table.

Daphne hung back, rolling her eyes. “Are you ready, Hermione?” Daphne skirted around the matter at hand, and Hermione was grateful to the girl, whose friendship had been rather unexpected. 

“If I must,” she huffed, and Remus chucked again, leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

“Go. Have fun.” He paused, eying Ginny’s mischievous smile. “Not too much, though. Or I’m sending Molly.” Ginny sobered immediately, while Daphne dissolved into giggles. Hermione promptly pecked Remus on the cheek and dragged both girls out to the front garden by their elbows, steeling herself for a dreaded day of wedding dress shopping. 


End file.
